


Joey Cornelli

by olivemartini



Series: the heavy hearts we hold together [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 08:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11551356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivemartini/pseuds/olivemartini
Summary: Things that were in her job description: presenting cases.  Gathering files.  Researching data bases.Things that weren't but she still found herself doing anyways: letting a known serial killer lean over and smell her hair in exchange for information, but she's learning to expect things like that with the BAU





	Joey Cornelli

Things that were in her job description: Presenting the cases to the rest of the team.  Analyzing information, finding addresses, narrowing down the suspect list.  Occasionally coming on sight to work with the team.

Things that were not in her job description: Going with Hotch and Spencer to visit an honest to god serial killer in the middle of a maximum security prison because they want to know if the new girls turning up were connected to him, because even though they use him MO, they've been dead for three years and he's been in jail for three.

"I'd like to point out, again, that I've never done this before."  It's clear that she's nervous, and she's not sure if getting stuck in the middle of Hotch and Spencer to block her from the inmates was intentional, but she's pretty sure it was.  She'll thank them for it later, but right now, she's too busy setting up her computer and ignoring the looks the guards gave her when she bent over to plug in the cables.  

"And I'd like to point out that nothing is going to happen to you."  Spencer says, in that same half comforting, half know it all tone that he always uses when he thinks she's being ridiculous but wants to calm her down.  "See this glass?"  He taps on it, and when he does, the man inside the little room look up with a small amount of interest.  "That'll be between you and him this whole time, okay?"

"But you'll be in here with him."  She's whining a bit, she knows, and now Hotch is giving her a little half smile that makes her think that he has a better sense of humor than he lets on.  Or maybe he does remember that time she cleaned up coffee with him and sat up all night to talk through the case, and that's why he's a bit more indulgent with her than he normally would be.  Or maybe he's just protective like that and didn't like the idea of taking her in here anymore than anyone else did, whihc was much more likely.  "That's a  _bad_ guy, Reid.  Really bad."

"I know."  His voice sounds a bit off, a little strangled, but he just coughs and pushes his sleeves up to his elbows before walking into the room with Hotch. 

When the door closes behind them, it sounds a bit more final than it probably should.

 

 

All she was really there for was to run the camera and record the guy (Joe Cornelli, thirty six known kills, all women twenty-thirty years old with dark brown hair, and who was now rotting in jail for the rest of his life).  It was supposed to help the team go over his expressions to look for possible cues later, if they need it, and if not, to give to the acaemy as an instructional video.  

Except they weren't getting anywhere.  

They were just talking in circles, showing him folders full of crime scene photos that he probably had memorized and showing him new ones that he was definitely getting off on seeing.  There's this stupid grin on his face, like Christmas has come early for him, and Beatrice wants to go in and wipe it off.  Reid's tapping again, and Hotch is looking increasingly frustrated.  Beatrice isn't a full member of the BAU, but she knows enough to be able to tell that this isn't going anywhere.

Until one of the guards come over to talk to her, and he bumps against the door, and Joe Cornelli tilts his head like a hunting dog who caught an interesting scent.  "I was told you were bringing a girl with you."  He says, grinning, revealing a row of rotten teeth.  The guard beside her pulls her back away from the glass, like he needed to protect her, but that didn't stop her from meeting eyes with Joe across the room, like he could somehow tell right where she was at.  "Is that her?"

Hotch and Spencer don't answer, but she can see Spencer's jaw tighten and Hotch's shoulder tense.  She shakes off the gaurd, who steps away with a  _what did I do_ sort of expression on his face, which is right around the time that Joe Cornelli's smile gets a little wider.  "How bout we make a deal?"

 

 

"Absolutely not."  Spencer says, and he bangs his fist into the table, the first violent action she'd seen from him.  "I can't believe the two of you are even considering it!"

"He just wants to smell my hair."  She rolls her eyes, trying to force some false bravado into her voice and probably fails.  "It's not like he can really do anything when you're in the room, can he?"

"He could."  Hotch was looking at her with steady eyes, and his hands, for one, aren't shaking.  "We won't be in there with you.  So he could.  But he won't."

"And you can tell that from your profile?"  She looked back at Cornelli, who was looking over at them like he knew she had already decided.  "I'll be safe."

"If you call walking into the arms of a serial killer safe, then sure, perfectly."  Spencer spares half a second to glare at her, then turns back to Hotch.  "Give us another hour, let me talk to him again, she does not need to go in their."

"You heard him Reid."  She spoke softly, reaching out to touch the inside of his wrist, which is not quite the same thing as grabbing his hand but somehow more effective  "It's the only way you get what you need.  And if I can stop you from finding fresher bodies, then I want to."

Spencer turns away, and Hotch nods, and Beatrice takes in one shuddering breath and tries to stop her hands from shaking.  "Stay on opposite sides of the table," He reminds her, and then he opens the door.

 

 

"Aren't you a pretty thing?"  Cornelli sits up with a renewed interest, the most animate she'd seen him this whole afternoon.  He runs his eyes over her, and it's like bugs across her skin.  "What's your name?"

They did not give her protocol for this.  They said that all he wanted was to smell her hair, to touch it, maybe.  She slides into the seat across from him, folds her arms, and leans forward a bit so her hair falls in front of her face and spills onto the table.  "Beatrice.  But I go by Bea, now."

"Beatrice."  He says it slowly, rolling it off his tongue, like it belongs to him.  She doesn't like it.  "Do you know why I asked you in here?  I'm assuming you do, since you were spying on us from behind that glass."

She swallows and nods, and leans back a little when he moves forward, unable to stop herself.  "You wanted to smell my hair.  And if I let you, you give the agents what they need."

He nods, runs his tongue over his lips, and she wants to run away from him.  She'd seen a lot of killers but she'd never had to be in the same room as one, never felt evil pour from one person like the sharp scent of sweat.  It was a whole new kind of experience.  "In the good days, I wouldn't need permission.  I'd just take.  But now I have to ask, and look at that,"  He spreads his hands as wide as the chains would let him, palms up.  "It's time for you to give."

She moves forward, and he leans in at the same time, reaching to grab onto her shoulder with an iron grip and jerk her towards him.  He's much too close to her, his nose buried in her hair, and this is not him smelling her, this is a  _caress,_ his hand moving to knot in her hair and let it run through his fingers, his cheek against hers.  "You're trying to be brave,"  He murmurs, and she shakes, trying to find the urge to either pull away or stay put and being unable to make a conscious choice towards either, so she just sits and lets him take his time, much in the same way he would have taken his time with those other girls.  "But you're so afraid of me.  You can't hide it.  It's one of the best smells in the world to a man like me."

"You're not a man."  She gasps out, and he lets her go, laughing.  He rips out a few strands of her hair as he does so, and she watches them be pulled across the table and disappear into his pocket.  

"True."  He grins, and she imagines it, this man leaning over a girl as he cuts her open, those same hands that were just on her ripping and cutting and ruining, and gets up from the chair.  "I'm so much more."  Then his smile disappears and he slumps back, apparently done with his fun.  "Get your agents back in here.  I'll give them what they need."

 

 

 

She didn't talk on the way back, and when they stopped to eat, she didn't say anything then either, just shoved her food around the plate.  So maybe that's why when she made some excuse about grabbing something from her office, Spencer followed, weaving through the crowd and ignoring JJ to make it to her door before she closes it.  

"Are you alright?"  He demands, and it's easier for him to hold the door open than it should be, considering how thin he is. 

"Do you think I'm alright?"  

They stare at each other, and she lets the door fall open enough to let him in.  It's safer to talk to him here, surrounded by the darkness and the quiet and GArcia's trinkets, along with the feeling that she could walk away if she wanted to.  "No.  I think it really freaked you out, being that close to him, as anyone would be, and now you don't know what to do about it."  She sniffs and wipes at her eye, and he freezes, somehow thrown off his game.  "Please don't cry,"  he whispers, pleading, and apparently his germs rule doesn't extend to hugs, because he's pulling her towards him.  "I don't really know what to do when people cry."

She chokes out a laugh, which might have been the whole point.  "You're doing fine."  And pushes away and shakes her arms, like she could shake off this afternoon just as easily.  "And so will I.  I just need a shower to wash away the creeps I got."

He nods, gives her hand a squeeze (two seconds, longer than the half second he does when he wants to get her attention) and then gathers up the files that she had claimed to need.  "You did the right thing, you know."

She felt something shift when she walks back out into the light with him, when the others crowd around her and offer her their own form of support (Morgan's tug on the pony tail, Rossi's smile, JJ's hug).  It's like being team, being family, and it reminds her of the time before everything went wrong, and she lets herself get lost in the idea that maybe she could let herself have this little thing until Garcia comes back from whatever assignment they put her on.  


End file.
